Zuzu's Petals

Last night I had the pleasure of, for the fourth year in a row, reading "The Night Before Christmas" to my kids from the same book that'd been read to me, by my father, in my youth. It's a treasured tradition. Then, tonight, I helped soothe and calm the nerves of my son as he lay strapped to a board in the emergency room of the same hospital he was born in while novocaine shots and stitches were applied to a cut on his finger from an accident with a pair of scissors. The incident interrupted our Christmas dinner with family, whose departure I missed, and upon returning home, it just felt like Christmas had come and gone without my having had a chance to fully engage.

Yet helping my son get through the experience reminded me of how much I really do love him, and his typically challenging behavior and the difficulties of dealing with a strong-willed child are overshadowed greatly by what a sweet and loving little boy he truly is at heart. It gave me pause to think about 'the bigger picture' too. And spending Christmas Night in an emergency room reminds one that horrible thing can and do happen to people every single day. Christmas included. 

In fact, as awful as it is to consider, somebody probably died today, unexpectedly and tragically. So fretting over a few stitches and a missed meal seems trivial. Right? It's all about perspective sometimes.

So the day is coming to a close, and as it does, I'm taking solace in watching "It's A Wonderful Life" as I write this, which never ceases to infuse the same perspective adjustment as well.

Merry Christmas, friends, and family. And remember, no man is a failure who has friends.

Girlie Giggle Gift Gathering

When i arrived at work today, I found that a moderately sized group of ladies had taken a position at a long table in the cafe, and they were engaged in a holiday gift exchange. It was quite pleasant to observe their friendship and exchange of token Santas, soaps and scents, but the squealing was reminiscent of what one might expect at a baby shower or a 14 year old's slumber party. The "oohs", "awwws" and giggles echoed loudly through the cafe. Now, if laughter is infectious, then squealing and giggling are the green-phlem expulsion that signals the need for a quarantine. IMHO.

This is not meant to be sexist, just observational. Because we all know that, when a group of guys are gathered in a dark pizza parlor around an aged oak table with limericks carved into every inch of it's surface, Sausage and Pepperoni remains scattered about a still-spinning pie tin, and beer foam splattering about as they grunt, bellow laughter, slap high fives and shout "Oh Yeah!" at every touchdown occurring on the projection set above them, the women in the establishment all sigh a collective "eeewwwwh".

We are so different in these group dynamics.

I saw an interesting documentary once that showed studies of toddlers and their behavior. Boys generally sat or played side by side, typically in their own independent ways with clearly defined interaction (i.e., playing with army men or construction set toys), limited eye contact and authoritative conversations. While girls sat facing each other, engaged in more back-and-fforth interaction, complete with validation and feedback of each other's thoughts.

And so it seems to carry into adulthood as well.

My wife has often commented on how a phone conversation between myself and a male friend transpires. They're typically short, focused, to the point, and with little or no 'fluff' material. If I need to borrow a hammer, for example, I'd pick up the phone, call my neighbor Ian, say "Hey man. How's it going?.... Can I borrow your hammer?". Notice the failure to actually wait for or engage in a dialog about "how it's going". On the flip side, if she called a girl friend to ask to borrow a cup of sugar, she'd first engage in a lengthy dialog about how everybody is, there's be a bit of bantered laughter back and forth with some tittering over some cute or interesting behavior a child had recently done, and perhaps some notes of concern or support over a reference to an issue in the other's life. Then the request to borrow the sugar. Then more follow on chit-chat before ending the 20 minute phone call.

"Men don't know how to converse" I've been told. And in the big picture, I would disagree. We do, but we don't consider it an obligation every time we talk. it's an unspoken understanding. Perhaps we're either less socially aware, less socially conscious, or perhaps less socially constrained. I guess it's all about while side of the room you're on when the giggling and squealing starts.

Isn't That A Prince Song?

While dropping off the kids at preschool, I noticed a truck with a bumper sticker that read "JESUS DIED 4U". Putting my rational and skeptical commentary about that statement aside, just the fact that the bumper sticker uses"4U" instead of the English version "for you" was disturbing. I mean, did they have to pay the letter or something? Why the need for the shorthand? Did they text in their order from a cell phone? Or is our country really slipping that far into illiteracy?

Come to think of it.... isn't that a Prince song?

I Did Not Know That

I just stumbled across this very interesting list of "7 Medical Myths Even Doctors Believe" and I thought I'd share it, as I found it interesting reading. I only knew of two being myths, so I've just discovered five more things that I always thought were so, but are not after all.

You can read all the details here, but here's a sneak peek at the myths:

We use only 10 percent of our brains • You should drink at least eight glasses of water a day • Fingernails and hair grow after death • Shaved hair grows back faster, coarser and darker • Reading in dim light ruins your eyesight • Eating turkey makes you drowsy • Mobile phones are dangerous in hospitals

Kite Eating Tree

Anybody that grew up reading "Peanuts" probably remembers Charlie Brown's ongoing battles with "The Kite-Eating Tree". It was inevitable that, on each new kite's maiden voyage, it'd end up entangled in the ruthless teeth of "The Kite-Eating Tree". Well, it turns out we've one of our own.... and it tastes are far less discriminating. For, upon the purchase and assembly of two 'balsa wood' airplanes for the twins, my son's plane arched upwards, around and directly into the waiting branches of the one tree in our front yard. Well out of reach. My immediate thought was to pelt it with rocks, but that was to no avail. So, if rocks were not enough, the local town newspaper that was conveniently lying on my driveway would certainly suffice. But that, too, failed to result in the desired effect, and it ended up stuck in the tree as well. Then, I thought I'd knock it loose by tossing a nearby rake up to bump it loose. The rake stayed, too, lodged amongst the branches. In a matter of minutes, the tree had claimed the plane, the newspaper, and a rake. All this while my kids stood on the side while they're crazed father flung one after another, appearing to do nothing more than feed the voracious appetite of the persistent perennial. I eventually got the plane down with a steady stream of water from a pressured hose nozzle, but the paper and rake remain for the time being.

Dan Fogelberg's Passing

I didn't catch the news earlier this week about Dan Fogelberg's passing. Then again, I don't listen to KOIT, so it's understandable that it flew beneath my radar. But when I stumbled across this "Remembering Dan Fogelberg" badge on the iTunes Store, I was struck with several thoughts and recollections.

The first thought, cynically enough, was that if this was some drugged up junkie rocker or hip-hop gangsta, there'd have likely been far more visibility. But no, no controversy here, just prostate cancer, and who's gonna wanna read about that? Right? Sad.

My second thought was a recollection of days gone by, late high school years, and being introduced to his music by my girlfriend. Making the leap, at the time, from Foreigner and Foghat to Fogelberg was no easy transition, but Fleetwood Mac was nearby to ease the way. And I ended up being a big enough fan to have purchased several albums as well as attend a concert. I did and still, consider "The Innocent Age" to be a great release and collection of songs, and after my father's passing, "Leader of the Band" was as difficult to hear as was "The Living Years" by Mike and the Mechanics. "Old Lang Syne" was a song that seemed destined to predict a future encounter with my girlfriend at the time, one that's not yet taken place and probably never will.

Sure, about the time his song "Longer" was overplayed enough to make listening to Air Supply seem like head-banging, I'd begun to lose interest in the music. I'd see his name appear on lists of upcoming shows at nearby Villa Montalvo or the Mountain Winery. While I never desired to attend a show, it would often send me back to my CD collection to dust off the earlier releases and reminisce a bit. As I'm doing now, while "Intimidation" plays from his collaboration with Tim Weisberg.

Oddly, for somebody who's music has not been something I've followed for 20 years, it still means a good deal to me, and accents many of the moments of my youth. What a legacy to leave for so many. Even though one's time in the limelight may wane, it can cast shadows that last for decades if not a lifetime.

The final thought was one of dread over walking further down a path that will certainly lead to more and more familiar names and faces reaching the end of their own lives, and reminding me of my own mortality. And of course, how I act on that thought, which makes all the difference in the time that lies ahead.

Eyes On The Prize

My fondness for documentaries has grown over time. Just last weekend, in a discussion with the family about worthwhile television, I commented that I find it far more incredible to watch a good documentary than most TV shows. And it all started back in 1987, with the airing of "Eyes On The Prize" on public television. I clearly remember watching it intently, with shock, regret, and utter disbelief that the actions chronicled had transpired less than 30 years earlier. I was riveted. And with a sense of 'coming full circle' after having progressed on to watch and embrace numerous other landmark documentaries, I've recently stumbled upon this on DVD and I'm working my way through viewing it once again.

Still with shock, regret and utter disbelief. This 14-hour documentary is jaw-dropping and dumbfounding. Having grown up in California with fairly liberal parents, it's simply inconceivable to me that anybody could or would treat people so unjustly as captured here. From segregated drinking fountains to lynchings and everything in between. What's incredible is how determined, focused and disciplined the civil rights movement became, and how quickly, too. It's as if a collective conscious just reached a point in unison, and said 'enough'.

I'm only a few hours into it, but it's as good if not better then it was when I first saw it in 1987. It's right up there with so many other favorites. It's a must see and a reminder of the George Santayana quote "Those who do not remember the past are condemned to repeat it."

I'll choose to remember.

Visit the pbs.org website for a detailed series description and a wide array of much more information.

I Feel Happy... I Feel Happy..

I'd like to say thanks to some of you for the emails and encouragement following my "Mood Swing" post earlier this week. I sincerely appreciated it. It happens to the best of us and I was just feeling overwhelmed by that whole 'sudden reality' thing; i.e. taking stock of everything on one's plate and the horizon ahead all at once instead of in small consumable chunks..

I'm feeling much better now. As early as late that same evening, I started to pul out of the nose dive and inch my way back into the ocean again. Part of the inspiration came from several emailed comments, including my wife's comment that she thought I was saying that I'd be happier back in my single days, living alone in a small apartment and under a far more controlled environment. I responded that I was not lamenting being a husband, but being a lack-luster husband. I don't regret being a husband and a father, but i do lament the 'quality' of my performance in both. I've been working in 'reaction mode' for years now and it's starting to show.

But on the heals of that exchange, I did stop to assess those many things I should and do appreciate having. An extremely tolerant wife who's also working in 'reaction' mode, kids that still run to hug me when I arrive home at the end of the day, regardless of how I might have blown it earlier by getting angry at them for not jumping through 4 hoops on the first command. And my job.... holy crap, when I stop to think about what I do, I'm floored. I'm one of a team of 6-12 players that bring one of Apple's flagship products to the market. How cool is that? Mac enthusiasts dream of getting to be involved in what I see and do. I'm amazingly fortunate to be doing this, and keeping that in mind makes the workload and how I approach it all the more challenging and exciting.

After a rough weekend, my wife bought me the audio version of "Screamfree Parenting" and I've been listening to that one the way to/from work each day. It's helping me put a good deal of things into perspective, including the fact that parenting is hard for everybody and figuring out how to do the right things that help manage their development is not something the rest of the world seems to have nailed down while I'm busy banging my head against the wall. So I'm learning to stop banging my head against the wall. In addition, it's helping me remain focused not on what I expect of them, but of myself.

Wednesday night provided me with an opportunity to share beers with Apple co-workers from many years back. One, Jon, was an intern our team brought on back in the mid-ninties who was subsequently hired and has since become one of the primary engineers and contributors to our core disk technologies. We've developed a friendship over the years and revel in discussing everything from parenting to the Cosmos and all things science and soclal. The other, another from the same team, was one of the two irish friends that prominently figure in my Singapore travel story. Ken was one of the three visitors I moved from our downtown Singapore hotel to the island resort we so greatly enjoyed. 10 years my senior, Ken's a bright techophile type. So between the three of us and a couple of beers, I spent the evening reminiscing about travels and all the changes in technology we've been a part of or involved in over the last 10 years, as well as engaging in discussions about religion, science, health and more. I love a good thought provoking dialog. It was a great time and one of my favorite ways to unwind.

Oh, and the added combination of having some shifts in deadlines at work giving me more breathing room and being able to actually take a good chunk of time off over the holidays, combined with a late night viewing of "the Bishop's Wife" helped get me off the pier.

iCollision iNsurance

Sure, working at the main Apple campus in Cupertino means my exposure to things of this nature is greatly increased, but even outside of the company walls, I've been seeing more and more people walking about while using their iPhones and cellphones then ever before. There's certainly been great leaps and bounds over the last year or two in what our phones/PDAs are capable of doing, but with the iPhone, either the incidents or just my awareness of people on foot, in motion, with their heads bent down and focused on the device in their hand and not their paths, has dramatically increased.

I don't expect it'll be long before there are some statistics coming out of the insurance industry, much as there have been with cell phone usage in cars and the correlation to accidents, where we'll find pedestrian traffic is experiencing an increase in insurance claims. I mean, I've seen people come millimeters from blind-siding each other almost every day because they're not watching where they're going, they're watching the screen on their iPhone. And I've even seen somebody, and I kid you not, approaching and crossing the street without paying full attention because they're not looking up as they do so.

I give it another 6 months before Apple's the subject of some lame-ass class action lawsuit over selling a device that causes an increase in pedestrian accidents because people don't seem to have the good sense to know better than to look up and around for traffic when they're stepping off the curb.

The Chain On My Mood Swing Broke

Maybe it's the colder weather, or perhaps a seasonal malaise brought on by the pressures and deadlines of Christmas being piled on top of the already strained daily grind. But I'm in a funk again. I'm depressed. The only thing that's up in my life right now is my weight. Last night I spent about 2 hours into the evening and early morning trying to take action on making a gift list, filling wishes of others and starting several work related tasks. And I've nothing to show for it. I could not take action or complete anything. I have so many unfinished writings, incomplete tasks and pressing things to tackle, but I've no energy or interest in doing so.

I actually went to bed and just laid there, looking up at the ceiling in the darkness, and wondered how I'd reached such a mental state. I once was a far more positive and joyous person, but of late, I'm filled with anger, frustration, cynicism and constant regret for being a lack luster partner in my marriage, regret for not being a good enough role model for my two children, who's behavior issues echo my own immaturity, and regret for not being as on top of things at work as I believe is expected and reasonable.

Right now I feel like a fish that's been placed on a wooden pier. But not one that's flapping about, arching one way or another in an attempt to somehow find my way back into the water. No, I feel more like the fish that's just lying there, still, eyes fixed on the horizon, gasping rhythmically but without hope or even the belief that there's any other option.

How An Older Generation Sees Holiday Confection

I don't know about you, but for some cultural reason, See's Candies seems to have a strong seasonal following. It's become a tradition of sorts, or was, that See's Candies be a part of Christmas day. At least it's a strong memory for me, anyway. I can still remember a box being in our house on Christmas Day in my late teens, early adolescence, and even as a toddler (although those memories are sepia-toned, jittery, with negative scratches and no audio).

In any event, See's seems to have this market cornered. Or do they?

As I was getting coffee this morning, I overhead an elderly foursome talking about their holiday plans and referencing a forthcoming trip to See's in order to buy a box of "Nuts and Chews". And it struck me that this habit has not carried over for me. I don't include a visit to a distributor of Mary's fine confections in my seasonal planning, and I don't notice or hear people my age or younger doing so either. Is this a generational thing? Will this tradition gradually fade away over the coming decade, going the way of fruitcakes and nativity scenes on front lawns? Or will See's perhaps spin the marketing campaign to pick up the interest of the younger crowds, with the sweet blue-haired staff of yesteryear being replaced with disgruntled former Tower Records employee's behind the counter, complete with multiple piercing and hip-shirts picturing one of their trademark lollypops and their new slogan "Suck on This"!

Let us hope not. I'd rather see the gentle and symbolically matronly workers all collectively remove their hair nets in unison as the doors permanently close than see something so timeless change.

OK, So DON'T Have A Nice Day

I stopped at Fry's Electronics earlier this week between dropping kids off to preschool and getting into the office. I needed to check some pricing on an item or two I'm considering as something for my Christmas Wishlist. Now, for anybody not familiar with the "Fry's Experience", it was perfectly captured on the internet some years back in the guise of this humorous yet painfully accurate employment application. The thing about Fry's is that you can't go in expecting anything in the way of reliable service or advice. You just hope to find what you need at a really good price and be prepared for everything but a smooth experience doing so.



As I was exiting the store, the Door Nazi they have positioned at the exit doors, poised to jump and wrestle to the ground anybody that fails to provide a receipt for their bagged purchases on the way out, regardless of it's being completely illegal to do so, allowed me to pass without being detained, as I held no items as I walked out. The woman walking behind me was also not in possession of anything, but from her response to the statement by the clerk at the door, she'd had a typical Fry's experience. Perhaps she'd had to go through 5 different salespersons directing her to yet another until she'd gone full circle. Perhaps she'd struggled with trying to ask a simple question in simple English and somehow get a clear and simple answer. Or perhaps, poor thing, she'd actually attempted to return a defective item for a refund.

Whatever the case, for 9.10am on a Monday morning, there was a surprisingly long line at the registers, so much so that even the most seamless of Fry's experiences could go horribly awry after being forced through the cattle pen that is the checkout line.

As we exited, the clerk at the door said "Have A Nice Day" to the woman behind me. Her response was a curt and irritated "Oh, I Will NOT!". So, it seems, she was pissed off at her retail experience with the electronics superstore.

But what struck me as odd was if she'd somehow expected her snappy retort might accurately convey her dismay or make any significant point. I'd understand a reply like "It can't get any worse than my morning here" or "I was until I got stuck in a line for 30 minutes"; but "Oh, I will NOT!"? Just what does that mean? That leaving Fry's means the rest of the day is nothing but downhill? Or that the day ahead can, in no way, prove to put the grind of a Fry's experience into perspective, and of lesser importance?

It just goes to show that snappy responses need to be well thought out in advance, or you might stumble over your own ineffective "Oh, Yeah?" without said preparation.

I Know This Guy

The character, not the cartoonist :-)

Gutter Bail

A couple of weeks back, my peaceful late-Saturday morning was interrupted by a knock on the door. I'm not a big fan of interruptions. In fact I pretty much never answer the phone, but a knock on the door at our home is typically followed by the sound of squealing kids scampering about in excitement, shouting "somebody's at the door!" and trying to open it before either of us intercede. Which makes hiding a bit difficult. It's typically a neighbor and not a solicitor, but there are the odd exceptions, such as this one, that annoy the heck out of me.

When I opened the door, there was a ram-shacked pickup in the street, a lone and worn looking occupant in the passenger seat, and a character on my doorstep that seemed to have fallen right out of a camp scene from "The Grapes of Wrath". He was an aging, gaunt, disheveled looking character, with more vacant spaces then teeth in his mouth, and he looked like he'd be more at home slouched over an array of empty glasses at the end of a dark windowless bar at 2pm or leaning on a stop signal post with a barely legible "will work for food" sign scrawled on the back of a tell-tale cardboard siding torn from a Jack Daniels packing case.

Quite the humanitarian, aren't I?

The thing is, I have no interest in being solicited to by anybody, at all, ever. And even less so at my home. On top of this, opening the door to find somebody that looks so worn and torn, with my kids clamoring to get out or see the visitor ads to my irritation.

I remained civil, especially after he greeted me very politely, even though it was clearly a sales tactic. He explained that he and his partner were in the neighborhood cleaning gutters, and for $60 I could have all of our gutters cleaned.

The first thought that crossed my mind was that my wife would be none-to-thrilled to look out her window to find Zeek and Cletus in our backyard. And for that amount of money, I'd do it myself. How hard could it be?

I dismissed him with as minimal an amount of irritation in my voice as possible, and once I answered the children's inquiries as to how that man was able to eat without any chompers, I was in the backyard on the ladder to starting the cleaning process before they could push-start their truck and wobble away to the next street.

About 10 minutes into the effort, I started to question the R.O.I. of my decision. Perhaps paying for this would have been a far more convenient way to go. After an hour I finished just one side of the house and left the remainder for a future effort. Then, earlier this afternoon, I was led to believe that a kids toy had been tossed on the roof along the side of the house, so I pulled out the large ladder and ascended to find no toys, but a gutter in dire need of cleansing.

I'd cleaned this particular gutter out shortly after purchasing the home less than 1 year ago, but there was so much junk in it that, I kid you not, there was a base layer of dirt, there were green sprouts of weeds, and there were even some worms in the soil. Yes, worms. Our gutter had become a garden.

I gathered the necessary supplies and started the process, contending all the while with keeping the kids from climbing the ladder and out of the way of showering dirt and leaves. At one point, my son found it entertaining to ride his 3-wheel cycle back and forth beneath the ladder I was balancing on. My visions of Lee Remick's fall only confirmed my frequent correlations between his behavior, and that of Damien's in "The Omen".

Another hour+ later and another side of the house was done. There are still two sides left. And given that this will amass to between 4-5 hours of labor, paying $60 for the whole thing to be addressed would have been a steal.

Lesson learned. I'll think twice before turning away the next drifter offering a good deal on a time-consuming task such as this.